


i grieved and saw how ethereal and unnecessary i had been

by KeyKnows



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Character Study, Gen, POV Second Person, and all that stuff, and hearts, rambling about the nature of nobodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 22:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13199703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeyKnows/pseuds/KeyKnows
Summary: There’s something unnerving about Naminé, everyone in the Organization can see that.She, more than them, wasn’t supposed to be.





	i grieved and saw how ethereal and unnecessary i had been

**Author's Note:**

> title is a Anne Sexton quote, from an interview featured in “The Art of Poetry: Anne Sexton".

 

There’s something unnerving about you, you can tell. And you can tell not because you have much to compare to, is not like anyone at the Organization is _normal_ , whatever that may mean, is not like any of them is particularly sane.

Still, is obvious to you that there’s something unnerving about you, unnerving in a different way they are all unnerving. Because if you were like them, they wouldn’t look at you like they do.

All of them are like old portraits hanging in an abandoned mansion, be it Castle Oblivion or the World That Never Was. Their expressions, be it false smiles or half-hearted sneers or bad feign indifference, are frozen in time, immortalized in the canvas of existence; the more one looks at them, the more off they look, the more exaggerated and the more wrong.

And if you were like that, you think after days and weeks and months under their care, under their whip, if you were like that they wouldn’t look at you like they do.

Larxene wouldn’t smile her terrifying smile at you like she does, like she really _means_ it, like she really is capable of hating you with more than memories of an old burning fire, like she’s pouring her whole non-existence into faking this emotion correctly; she doesn’t smile like that for anyone else at the Organization, not even to the one’s she opposes in secret and you doubt it has anything to do with keeping up appearances. 

You’re a witch after all, and witches are prone to know more than most. You can tell is something about you that makes Larxene hate you like she does.

It’s the same thing that makes Marluxia look at you with calculating eyes, calculating eyes so much different from the measured gaze he gives to everyone else. Eyes that get frantic, like looking at you makes all the pieces in his chessboard tremble, like you’re the piece that doesn’t quite fit or like you’re the pawn about to get crowned, the one that will give him victory, and is not, you think, just because of your memory altering powers.

And it’s the same thing that has Vexen coming at you with questions. He asks you of memories, but surprisingly not about those that you can change but about your own, he wants to know what you remember, from when you were whole. You say, with your porcelain voice, that you don’t remember anything before the white walls and empty hallways of Never Was. He doesn’t believe you, at all, but the certainty of your words makes something move and stir inside of his hollowed chest and not matter how much he claims to always be in search of the truth, like the scientist he is, there are some truths he would rather not find [and it’s easier to believe Xemnas every word than consider anything else.]

In any case you didn’t lie, because everything you know, about Kairi and Sora and Riku, about the Destiny Islands, about a certain slumbering heart, all of it you don’t remember it: you know it.

Maybe that’s what is unnerving about you. You’re a Nobody, you’re non-existent like all of them, you’re an anomaly that the universe had to put together in order to don’t brake itself to pieces, like all of them are. And yet, you hold not memories like they do, you don’t fake emotions like they do, you don’t need to.

When Larxene comes at you smiling you’re terrified this will be the day she’ll kill you, and your shaking isn’t some elaborate acting, like her smile is.

She _hates_ you for that.

Thought it’s true that the first, aware moments of your non-existence were spent in the World That Never Was, you were never allowed outside your room. You think you know why.

Every member of the Organization that has ever lay eyes on you is unnerved by your presence. Xaldin and his disdain against emotion shake under you ocean eyes, like he sees you and the foundations of everything he has chosen to believe shakes too; Lexeaus steadiness falters in your presence, like you’re mightier than the mountains that crumble under his command; Zexion looks at you with childish curiosity and then hides behinds his books, like there’s an explanation for what he sees right there under his nose; Demyx sees you and his young face contorts in something that you dare call hope; and whatever Saïx sees when he sees you, it has him convulsing trying to keep control of the berserker.

You meet Luxord just once. He looks at you, at your hair made of sand and your eyes made of ocean, and closes his own eyes, like he’s having an epiphany. He tells you chance and possibilities are ever changing but fate, fate is set in stone. You’re not sure what he means or what expects you to do with the knowledge [and later you’ll realize he expects you do to nothing because there’s nothing to do.]

You obviously couldn’t be keep in Never Was. Xemnas doesn’t explain this to you, but you understand you’re as much a liability as their triumph card. So you’re move to Castle Oblivion along half the Organization, and you’re kept in your tower like a princess in a fairy tale.

How fitting.

Xigbar is the only one aside from Xemnas that doesn’t flinch or recoils or hopes at your presence. He understands what you are, he understands you’re like them but not quite, more importantly he understands what all of them can be, will be if left alone.

You think of Larxene psychotic, fake smile and wish they could be left alone. But even if you’re a witch that can create worlds and lives, you can only do so inside a boy’s head, you have no power outside of it, so you can wish and draw all you want and nothing will ever come to be.

So you can’t do nothing when you meet Axel and he almost winces the first time he sees you. There’s something pulsing and stirring and awaking and growing inside of him. You can tell he sees you and comprehends [but doesn’t] what it is.

You won’t live to see him whole, not at least like you, not like Naminé the memory witch, not like Naminé the memory keeper.

Not like Naminé, the whole Nobody.

You’re an anomaly, a thing that wasn’t supposed to be, it doesn’t matter how much it hurts when DiZ says this, you know it to be truth and you know that your existence will only be kept for as long it serves a purpose. Your purpose is to fix the mess in Sora’s head and then return to where you belong.

And disappear.

It would be easier, you think, if you were like them, like all of them, if you were an old portrait hanging in the walls of a crumbling mansion, with the paint old and dull and the canvas falling to shreds.

It would be easier if you were, really, non-existent.

You’re more a martyr than a witch, you think with the bitterness DiZ doesn’t believe you capable of.

Roxas will face your same, terrible, self-sacrificing fate, he will have to let go of all he is and all he ever could be so the savoir of the worlds can wake up, and you wish he wouldn’t have.

But martyrs don’t have a say in fate [and you understand what Luxord meant.]

In any case, you weren’t supposed to be, so will it matter when you aren’t anymore?

You wonder what will happen, once you get back to Kairi. Two hearts can exist inside the same body, but you don’t want that, nor for you and nor for Roxas. You hope, earnestly, that you will truly disappear, you will fuse back into her heart to never be aware of yourself again, you hope Naminé will truly cease to be.

You don’t even know if what stirs in your chest is, truly, a heart anyway, maybe it’s just a piece of the light that composes Kairi’s heart, and not really _your_ heart.

But if you hadn’t a heart, you think, while the day for Sora’s awaking gets closer and closer, if you hadn’t a heart everyone at the Organization wouldn’t have looked at you like that:

Full of envy.

 

**Author's Note:**

> second person pov is the best shit ever, tbh, i love it, i don't use it or read often enough. this kinda started like an excuse to use said pov, but then i kinda dived into it and it transform into a more complete analysis of naminé's nature; i like her because there's something so, idk tender and mystical about her,she is so wise too, idk, i like characters like that
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading, every comment will be appreciate! <3


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